


Dark Nights and Starlights

by theperuvianfolkband



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Stargazing, basically just fluff, bc i'm a slut for fluff and i was feeling it tonight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:09:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4583682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theperuvianfolkband/pseuds/theperuvianfolkband
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stargazing!AU matched with a whole lot of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Nights and Starlights

It was four o’clock in the fucking morning and someone was knocking on his door. 

Grumbling, he stuffed his pillow over his head to try to block on the noise, but the knocking was persistent. Sitting up, he opened his eyes blearily and stumbled to the door. Yanking it open he started saying, “Who the fuck-” before breaking off and sheepishly rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. 

Before him stood Clarke Griffin, his beautiful, capable, challenging next door neighbor in nothing more than a tank top, sleep shorts, and a way too big sweatshirt hanging over her nimble frame. “Clarke, what-” 

She silently held out a travel coffee mug before holding out her hand to him. “Do you have your keys?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Silently, he grabbed them from the bowl by his door before taking her hand and letting her tug them outside. 

“Clarke, what are you,” he asked again before being shushed by a finger to the lips and he gave up trying to figure out what she was doing. Tugging them out to the parking lot and into the chilly November air, she led him to the bed of her truck and motioned him to climb in. He cocked his head to the side, looking at her in question before she rolled her eyes and clambered in herself, holding a hand out to him, an expectant look in her eyes. 

Ignoring her hand, he scrambled in after her to find blankets piled underneath him. “Want to tell me what we’re doing out here?” His voice rang in the empty parking lot, louder than he intended. 

Gathering a blanket and settling it over the two of them she finally turned to him and smiled faintly. “So, there’s this meteor shower tonight.” His eyes widened and looked up to the sky to find it completely clear, the stars shining brightly above them. “And I know you’re a huge nerd and know all the constellations by heart,” she continued, amusement creeping into her voice, “so I thought this might be something you’d want to see.” 

He looked down at her, speechless. “Clarke, I…” he trailed off, looking into her eyes. They were bright and hopeful and he kind of (really) wanted to kiss her. “Thank you.” 

She shrugged, looking embarrassed, and nudged his side. “Unscrew the cap,” she motioned to the coffee mug still clenched in his hand and he did as she asked. She took it from him and poured some into the cap, giving the mug back to him. Taking a sip, the taste surprised him.

“Hot chocolate?” he asked. 

“Obviously.” 

He laughed, booming and loud, and the sound filled the entire lot. She gave him a faint smile and his heart soared. “So when are we supposed to start seeing these meteors?” he asked, his voice quieter. 

“About fifteen minutes,” was her answer, and he looked over at her. 

“I could have had fifteen extra minutes of sleep?” he asked in mock outrage. 

She cracked a wicked grin and muttered, “My most sincere apologies, your highness. I know you need your beauty sleep.” 

“What, you think I just wake up looking flawless?” he asked, grinning. 

“Well, you look pretty great right now, so I’d say so, yes,” she quipped back, smiling into her makeshift cup and taking a sip of hot chocolate. 

He smiled softly at her before looking back up at the sky. “I love looking at the stars,” he murmured. 

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice equally quiet.

“Yeah,” he answered. “They make me feel… I don’t know. Safe.”

“They make me feel small,” she said. “They remind me of how insignificant I am. That in a hundred years no one’s going to remember me,” her voice held a note of sadness and Bellamy nudged her. 

“Hey. I’ll remember you.” She smiled at him and he looked back up adding, “I think that’s part of the reason they make me feel safe.” She looked at him, intrigued, and he continued. “Like even if I mess up colossally and make the absolute biggest fool of myself, it won’t really matter, not in the big scheme of things. Plus it reminds me,” his voice faltered, but he went on, “it reminds me of my mom. When I was younger we would go out into the yard and she’d point out all the different constellations and teach them to me, tell me the stories behind them.” He laughed. “God, I was awful at first. She would point at one and say, _Which is that one, Bell?_ and for the first month, I couldn’t for the life of me, remember. But she never got angry or annoyed, she’d just go out the next night and do the same thing. Pretty soon it was practically drilled into my head. We went out every clear night,” he reminisced. “Even in the winter when it was so cold I thought my nose would freeze off, we’d bundle up in coats and scarves and sit on the porch together.” He felt her sneak her hand into his and squeeze, and he squeezed back, still looking at the stars. 

She didn’t withdraw her hand, which surprised him, and rested her head on his shoulder. Using her other hand to point, she whispered, “Which is that one, Bell?” 

He chuckled and leaned his head on top of hers, talking into her hair. “That one’s Cassiopeia.” In a quiet voice, he started telling her the story of Cassiopeia, the vain woman who bragged of her beauty so abundantly that she angered the sea nymphs. He wove his words so expertly, his voice lulling and soothing that Clarke found herself losing herself in his words, his voice, in him. 

He nudged her. “Clarke, look.” She looked up to see a meteor shooting across the sky and a giddy grin bloomed across her face. And though Bellamy knew he should be looking at the star, he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from her, instead. 

He looked at this beautiful girl, sitting next to him, bathed in starlight, her blonde hair turned silver in the moonlight, her eyes sparkling, and realized how completely royally fucked he was.

He’d been half in love with Clarke Griffin since the day he’d met her. She’d already been living in the building for a few months before she introduced herself, storming to his apartment and knocking furiously on his door. He’d answered the door half naked and, to say the least, was surprised to see this spitfire blonde standing at his doorstep, cheeks blushed with anger. Her first words to him were, “What the hell, asshole?” 

Romantic, he knew. 

He’d raised his eyebrows at her, asking, “Yes, hello, what can I help you with?”

She’d just scowled at him and crossed her arms. “Okay, I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice person,” she’d started, “but god the sex is _so loud._ ” 

“Excuse me?” he sputtered. 

“You’re excused,” she replied. “But some of us need to sleep and listening to your, admittedly, very hot sex is not something that I’m interested in after not sleeping for twenty-four hours. So. If you could keep the noise to a minimum, it’d be much appreciated.” Then she walked briskly away, closing her door with a sharp snap and Bellamy was left standing there speechless. That was when he and Roma had been in their midst of their extremely dysfunctional (he realized now, but hindsight is always 20/20) fuck buddy deal, so it wasn’t that he could really blame her, but… well, he wasn’t expect it, to put it into simple terms. 

The first couple months had been rough between them, all sarcasm and snark, until one night she was locked out of her apartment and he offered to let her sleep on his couch until she got a new key. They’d stayed up all night eating popcorn and watching crappy Disney movies on Netflix and he’d made her laugh so hard Coke came out of her nose and they’d kind of become best friends after that. It wasn’t until a few months later that he’d realized how stupidly in love with her he was, but instead of confronting these feelings like a healthy person, he’d simply repressed them as much as he could. 

She squeezed his hand and snapped him out from his reverie. 

“Can you wish on a shooting star?” she whispered and he tore his gaze away from her. 

“I wouldn’t even know what to wish for,” his voice was gravelly. _Liar,_ he whispered to himself. 

She turned to him and smiled softly and all he could think was, _Fuck._ He, Bellamy Blake, had fallen in love with the girl next door, and it was such a cliche he would really hate himself if he could really bring himself to care. Except he couldn’t, because loving Clarke Griffin was probably the best decision of his life. 

“I would,” she whispered.

“Would what?” he asked distractedly. 

She looked into his eyes. “Know what would wish for,” she answered, leaning towards him. 

“Yeah?” he whispered back. 

“Yeah.” And she leaned in and kissed him. 

Her lips met his and they were soft and warm against his own, a shock against the chilly air, and he sat there for a minute stunned, while she pressed a soft kiss to his lips. She began pulling away when he finally reacted, pulling her closer and plunging a hand into her hair, angling her head so he could meet her head on. She grinned, which made it considerably harder to kiss her, and he pulled away with a huff. “Quit smiling, I’m trying to kiss you,” he mumbled against her lips. 

That only made her smile more but she pressed her lips to his in one last chaste kiss before pulling away to look at his face. “I know,” she smiled, “but I just… I’ve been wanting to do that for such a long time.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, grinning.

“Yeah,” she answered with a shy smile. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’ve been wanting to do that for a really long time, too.” 

Leaning back, she burrowed herself into his side and grabbed his hand. His arm wrapped around her waist instinctively and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so content. Tipping their heads back, they both stared at the sky until the horizon started turning orange, but they still didn’t move. He looked down at Clarke and found her blue eyes already staring up at him and he found he really didn’t mind going off three hours of sleep if it meant this. 

-x- 

Two years later Bellamy dragged Clarke out of their bed in the dead of night and pulled her outside despite her grumblings and protests of, _Dammit, Bell, I need sleep._ He looked at her in the moonlight, all irritable and grumpy, her hair a mess, and thought she might be the most ethereally beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

And maybe, when he went down on one knee and asked her the question he’d been dying to ask for the past six months, he thought, _I know what I’m wishing for now._ And maybe when she pulled him up and kissed him soundly on the lips mumbling _yes_ over and over again, he thanked every one of those shooting stars they’d seen that night. 

And maybe, just maybe, when he slipped the ring on her finger and looked into her eyes that sparkled brighter than any star he’d ever seen, he thought he had no need for shooting stars anymore. Because he had everything he would ever want right in front of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed. All mistakes are mine.


End file.
